I just keep posting and posting and posting, I can’t stop.
I think I need to focus my attention on some other writing projects.
I’m tired as shit and I’m very irritated.
As if you didn’t already know.
Today has been alright. I’ve been out a lot this week and it’s really drained me. I’ve only been getting four or five hours of sleep each night and I haven’t really been eating or drinking anything, which makes me even more tired.
This is what happens when I have a “busy” schedule. And I don’t even technically have a busy schedule. All I’ve been doing is picking up children from school and maybe helping with homework and it’s only for Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday.
But getting up and driving takes a lot of effort out of me. Being “responsible” for two more bodies outside of my own also takes a lot of effort out of me. I can barely take care of myself.
So when there’s a lot going on in my outside world, my inside world is ignored and I’m so focused on trying to reduce my stress response that I forget about myself. I don’t eat–I don’t really want to–I don’t think anything, and it makes it easier to do both because we don’t have a lot of food in the house. We barely have any, actually. This happens at the beginning of month after my mother pays rent.
And when I get stressed and things don’t go in a routine way and I know I might be forced to use my own shitty judgement or improvise for some reason, that puts more stress on my shoulders. I don’t handle stress well. I need to know things before I do them. I need to know I have a little bit of control and if it’s not done in a routine manner well that’s the end of the world for me. I need my routine. I’ve been addicted to routine ever since I was little.
I’m a leg bouncer. It bounces constantly throughout the day but when it goes quickly like it’s doing right now, I know I’ve reached my stress threshold. Which is probably about negative fifty. My stress threshold is extremely low.
I’m a rocker. When my muscles in my legs can’t take it anymore and I can’t ignore that cramp feeling, I rock. It relaxes me and I’ve actually almost fallen asleep doing it. I try not to do it in public because rocking back and forth is the textbook “Crazy person” thing. They should try it sometimes, maybe they wouldn’t be so stressed.
I’m also a teeth clencher. It really, really hurts my jaw. I do it when I sleep sometimes (not as often as I used to) and I do when without even knowing it, not until the pain starts radiating. I also do it when I’m stressed. Right now I have to keep opening my jaw and thinking about it so I don’t clench it anymore. My teeth are killing me.
When I get stressed, things get weird. That’s why my brain has created so many coping mechanisms for me.
*Warning, slightly gross alert*
When I don’t drink enough water I get really dehydrated. I also have a nose problem. What does that mean? I have overactive mucus membranes. It’s never been “diagnosed” but I mean it’s pretty easy to tell, I can feel it constantly at the base of the opening where my nose meets my mouth. Nothing is coming from my throat, it’s all from the back of my nose. I did some research on it a while ago.
I’m still going to ask a doctor the next time I see one.
At any rate, when I don’t drink enough water and especially in the winter (cold winds, I’m assuming), my nose can get really dry and I’ve got a few nose bleeds from it. Pretty average issue.
Except when I’m stressed and paranoid about everything.
I try to spit out as much of it as I can because it gets really annoying festering back there. This morning I was trying to clear out my sinuses both ways and then started brushing my teeth and suddenly there was blood in the sink. I thought maybe I’d nicked my gum or something but I checked everywhere, that’s not where it was coming from.
I hadn’t hacked up anything from my throat or lungs but that’s where my brain went.
. . .
I tried typing just now why I’m so terrified of things like that–obviously it’s indicators of bad things like a pulmonary embolism–but I can’t type about those kind of things specifically without being convinced it’s going to happen to me, particularly when I’m running on very little sleep and very little energy and a lot of stress.
At any rate, that was sign number one.
Sign number two? This evening when I was in the kitchen actually making a small bowl of yesterday’s spaghetti I saw a body leaning over in my peripheral vision and I screamed and faced it and saw it was just my father’s duster and hat hanging on the wall. I legit saw a face and a head. I don’t scream often, not unless there’s a legitimate reason to.
I asked him if it was necessary to have that thing there and he just laughed. That was sign number two.
It’s just telling me something bad is going to happen. That’s what I felt.
So I continued on with my night. I poured some water and I looked into the cup and I saw little black things floating in it.
You see, my father has memory problems. He also collects rain water in jugs when it rains so he can water our indoor plants with it. One day a week or so back, he put a jug in the fridge thinking it was store bought water and without his glasses didn’t see the black chunks floating around in it. Apparently neither did I when I poured myself some and drank it.
So I’ve been paranoid about that happening again. I poured three glasses of water in two different cups tonight and all three came out with black shit in it. I asked my mother if she’d bought the water and put it in the fridge earlier, and she said yes, that’s why I thought it was safe to drink. Apparently not. My father didn’t see anything floating in the jug, even with his glasses, but I did. That was sign number three.
As soon as I entered the kitchen from showing him the jug of water and being thoroughly confused, sign number four scuttled across the floor. Some kind of cricket looking bug that wasn’t a cricket. It was rounded but with a small body and really long antenna. It wasn’t a cockroach, trust me.
At this point I’m terrified. That bug just solidified everything for me. It feels like it just brings bad things with it and it crossed my path right when I was entering the kitchen. Like it timed it.
So I snatched my bowl out of the microwave and came back to my room already terrified that . . . shit, I can’t even type it out without worrying it’s actually going to happen. So scratch that. Ignore it.
I came back to my room and started watching more YouTube, the thing that numbs my mind the greatest, but every time I took a bite of the spaghetti it felt like that bug was in my mouth. I had to look at the food to make sure it wasn’t made of bugs.
It wasn’t very hot, but somehow one of the bites warmed the bottom part of my jaw and it felt like someone put something in it, like tampered with it. I thought I was poisoned for a second but that can’t be right. I didn’t ever leave my bowl by itself, I don’t think, and who is going to poison me? Right? Definitely sign number five.
Five signs? Fuck that, I need to be careful where I step. Something might blow my head off.
So there’s a half eaten bowl of spaghetti sitting next to me. I ate ice cubes instead.
I ate a few tater tots, a couple slices of smoked sausage and some french fries. That’s what I ate today.
I honestly don’t want to eat anything at this moment. I don’t even feel comfortable leaving my room.
And this is why I try not to stress myself out.
My legs are cramping. This is ridiculous. I’m so fucking tired but if I go to sleep I feel like something is going to happen. Too many signs tonight.
Looks like I’m in for another night of staying awake until my body collapses from pure exhaustion and my brain is too beat up to do anything about it.
This Friday I don’t want to see anyone and I don’t want to talk to anyone. I’m just going to sleep. And when I wake up, I’m going to go online. And no one better say one fucking word to me.